


Pain, Heartbreak...Loss

by EchoSilverWolf



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst and Feels, Betaed, Depressed Sherlock, Depression, Drabble, Drug Use, I'm Sorry, Johnlock Roulette, M/M, No Spoilers, One-Sided Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, POV Sherlock Holmes, Pining Sherlock, Poetry ficlet, Post-Episode: s04e01 The Six Thatchers, Sherlock is broken, lost without his blogger, poem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-14
Updated: 2017-01-14
Packaged: 2018-09-17 10:10:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9319058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EchoSilverWolf/pseuds/EchoSilverWolf
Summary: This work was inspired by a poem i wrote on my own and published years ago. I changed the wording to fit the character's personal life,feelings and the setting. It's a bit personal to me still as most of it remains my own writing.Short ficlet following s4 ep 1 The Six Thatchers, alienation from John and following Mary's message to Sherlock. No episode spoilers.





	

The hand holding the pen shook violently above the paper. It was just the comedown, he told himself. The low after the high of the cocaine. He just needed something else, morphine maybe, and the pain would subside. Maybe he would finally sleep. Maybe he just wouldn't wake up. The idea seemed preferable to the hell he had brought on himself. However, this needed to come first. While he could still think. While he could still feel, before what he was doing to himself inevitably won out. The words needed to come out. They were owed that much. He kept trying. Just get it right, then maybe he could let go...

***  
_This pain, no drugs can chase away-_  
_I tremble with doubt, I seethe with rage_  
_As they laugh at me, the freak, in this mental cage-_  
_But I bear it because I love you._

_The self hatred, inside, grows stronger with time_  
_The sadness, the empty, because you're not mine_  
_I have so much I’m not proud of and_  
_So much to hide_  
_But I carry this because I love you_

_This darkness I wear, is me, in disguise_  
_The man I show the world i have come to despise_  
_The real me is lost now,_  
_So very deep inside_  
_I hide him because I love you._

_So I'll rip myself open with pain and despair_  
_I’ve fallen so far now, and am too sick to care_  
_Because I know if I need you, you won’t be there-_  
_Now I’m barely alive_  
_Because I love you_  
***

Tears smudged the final words. Sentiment. How dull he had become.

He had “filed” all the others in the flames of the fireplace. It was only fitting; after all - nothing stayed. Always burned. Why not his words too? He had allowed himself to love so very few things. They all left. By death or abandonment. Alone is what he knows. Sentiment is only found on the losing side. Something he should have learned long ago.

Sighing, he folded the paper and tucked it into a book lying on the desk. A book that wasn't his. Unable to cast it into the flames with the rest.  
A reminder of what happens when you allow yourself to get attached.


End file.
